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by SassySatan666



Series: Servamp Short Stories [1]
Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Depression, Execution, F/M, Insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySatan666/pseuds/SassySatan666
Summary: She tore away the feelings in his core once her detached face decided to forever haunt his memories, leaving him on the brink of unfeeling.
Relationships: Hyde | Lawless/Ophelia
Series: Servamp Short Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811581
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Everything, Servamp





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**Author's Note:**

> I waited to publish the next few stories because theyre not BNHA-related but i figured my few servamp fans would appreciate it <3  
> Hope you enjoy!

His body was still, the stage casting an inky shadow across the audience; the promise of death was imminent, forever staining the calls of the crowds in ashen red. It was the cheers of death that would further the blade as it shone in the pale spotlight. Her speech was touching, the melodic charms of her voice steady despite the weapon raised against pale skin. The words fell onto keen ears, yet they were unheard.  _ He  _ was unfeeling, the ever-present tingle of their bond missing amis the cheering crowd. His heart broke with every call; every syllable spoken by his Juliet. Liquid gold fell down his face, the light trails of salted mist leaving stains in their wake, yet he was silent.

The world was numb; his agony slowly eating away at the blank slate he once called living. He could do nothing but watch as his life, his name, his love, his bond, his greed was taken by the knife that swung down. She had mentioned his crimson eyes once: the color of tulips blooming in the weather; of rosebeds gently swaying against the breeze that pierced the canopy of branches and fruit. Red… it was such an ugly color. It wasn’t the fading of petals, the sunset fading to a royal blue, nor the colour of valor - of bravery - that every flag seemed to convey so proudly. It was death’s color, an eternal, Hell-damned shade of crusted blood, of rust upon iron, of broken hearts; broken dreams. Of his greed; the carnage that ‘wanting’ would cast over the land in beadlets of vermillion soaring across the stage.

He watched the act with ugly, broken eyes; the world’s brilliance fading to gray as the axe hit both her neck and their bond. He felt the final bout of pain, a sharp tug that split his sanity in two as he shouted the name before it faded away for good. He reached out to her - tried to save her from the greedy fate he had condemned her to. 

It was to no avail.

Fresh crimson stained the planks, slipping through the seams as if the wood wasn’t there. The masked man raised the object of his swing, the red-stained head presented to the crowd as evidence of such an act. 

A laugh bubbled in his pained throat.

Blonde hair was stained, her once clear face peaceful in her final moments of peace and clarity. Red fell in clumps from the neck, the wound’s gore unappealing to most.

It was beautiful.

The fight was stripped from him, each passing moment as the crowd slowly dispersed left staring at the dried liquid that seemed to reach his feet, the red hand of death crushing his heart in a torn, butchered fist.

The pain was a nice change.

Clouds began to darken as the sky’s night slowly fell upon the land, deadened eyes staring at the constellations with no particular hope in mind, the stars revealing little to calm the inner turmoil that brewed in the broken strands of his heart-strings, the shattered being of his soul. 

Emotions weren’t important. He didn’t want them.

A smile chipped against his face, the movements unbeknownst to the owner. He took an unneeded breath, chilled air seeping into his frozen heart, his iced veins. His legs shook with the effort of slowly moving forward, the rush of subtle winds in the abandoned street forcing his lids closed, an agonizing, red memory waiting for him. 

It wasn’t painful if it didn’t hurt.

Cobbled earth rested beneath each step, preventing him from escaping into the Hell that could be so easily reached. His silver saber bounced at his side, phantom cheers echoing with each click. His steps faltered and he glanced at the pale white glow of the moon and its stars, his lashes fluttering shut as the tranquility seemed to quench the burning anguish alight in his being. 

His feelings weren’t wanted anymore. They left with the fall of iron.

A fanged smile fit onto his face, a laugh breaking from the barrier. His cerise eyes snapping open as giggles escaped from his internal prison. There was no damper to the sudden track, restraint avoidable as his voice shattered the tranquility of the royal skies. Sinking to his knees, a numbing bliss kept his legs uninjured against the smooth stones, shaking hands raising to his hair to act as a blockade to more woes. His hysteria turned sour, the exhilaration fading into an unfeeling depression, his sobs as broken as the bond he once had.

He was nameless. He was numb. He was Lawless.


End file.
